


honest (i couldn't save it)

by nathansprescott



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Parksborn, almost-suicide attempt, gwen/peter - Freeform, like it's just angst, only angst m'bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathansprescott/pseuds/nathansprescott
Summary: when is a monster not a monster?oh, when you love it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is just pure angst. peter's so sad. please save him.

**(when is a monster not a monster?)**

It's hard.  
Without Gwen, without the old light in his life. It's difficult getting up and putting together what he has left to get through the day.  
He winds a hand through his hair. It's clean, and he's almost proud. It was hard just getting the motivation to clean it.  
A sigh emits from him and he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore.  
He thinks of Harry. It was a fleeting thought, but of course, when it comes to Harry Osborn, everything always seems to stick.  
He remembers him clearly—blond hair and blue eyes and that smile that he was so fond of. It strikes a chord and releases a heaviness in his heart.  
He remembers the one time they kissed. Hands winding, lips moving. It was desperate, almost, and then it was over.  
It meant everything to him in a way he had not yet been able to comprehend. True to the story of many lost chances, he hadn't understood what it had meant until it was gone.  
Rome wasn't built in a day, but it was destroyed in just that timespan.  
Over before it began, maybe, hopeless, absolutely, but when has Peter Parker ever done anything _the easy way_?  
It's his fault. He recognises that, even welcomes the notion. It places blame where it is due, and it's easier than just asking _why_.  
There was a way out. There had to have been one. There's always a choice, always options, always different paths, and he fucked _everything_ up.  
He had wanted it all. It was foolish, yes, but he'd wanted everything and he wanted it just the way it should be—the way the both of them had deserved—and he had ended up with nothing left.  
He'd tried. He'd tried to save everything, tried to put everything together perfectly, tried to fix anything he could. He'd given it all away until he had nothing but a mess to call his own.  
And God, it's just enough to make him want to scream.  
Yes, it's his fault. Gwen _and_ Harry. Everything else in between, too. Everything's fucked and it's all his fucking fault.  
He's unleashed a fury on the Earth that he can't fix—a villain that he'd never work up the nerve enough to kill. He's tried.  
It was cold and about to rain over New York and Harry— _God, no, don't even think it, he's a villain, stop associating him to something that's not there anymore_ —is standing there, waiting for it, a sneer at his lips. Peter tries. Somehow, his fingers don't seem to work.  
He toes the edge of the roof. He could jump, he could fall. His web-shooters could save him if he backed out last minute.  
He's not afraid of heights. He never has been.  
Harry would be happy. Peter'd be gone. Maybe he'd see Gwen and Uncle Ben. Maybe this could fix everything.  
He steps away. His ringtone for Aunt May emits from his phone and he winces. He can't do this like that.  
Another time.

 

**(oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.)**


End file.
